


The Warrior and His Brute: A Ballad

by femmenoire



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8970010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenoire/pseuds/femmenoire
Summary: Moments in a life they lived together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's not a ballad, but still....

The air was cool.

It was the middle of the night. All of the suns had set. And there was a breeze.

It wasn’t the kind of breeze that indicated a body of water nearby, because there wasn’t.

Chirrut missed that kind of breeze. The salt in the air, crisp and refreshing. But it had been years since his family had sent him to train with the Jedi and luxuries like a waterfront view were only a distant memory.

But he was grateful, still.

This breeze was fine, he thought to himself.

Baze shifted beside him and Chirrut realized that his prayer _I am one with the force and the force is with me_ had fallen unexpectedly from his lips. He consciously silenced his voice, but not his mind.

He shifted closer to his love.

***  
His heart beat fast.

He willed it to still.

“It will come with time,” his Jedi Master said. It was supposed to mollify him, but it had the opposite effect.

Baze Malbus was a brute. He knew that. The Jedi Council knew that. But they also knew that the force was strong within him. And so they worked and cajoled and spoke in hushed tones, hoping that one day he would follow in their footsteps.

But Baze Malbus was a brute. And he wanted to chart his own path.

And so he worked harder, his heart beat faster, the sweat collected at his brow.

He could not find peace.

He could not control the force.

And so he worked harder, his heart beat faster, the sweat collected at his brow. The cycle was endless.

“You will never be a Jedi if you cannot still your mind.”

Baze stopped. He had been concentrating on moving an empty jug of water. There were actually a number of jugs full of water that he had blown up in the process. He was concentrating too hard. He knew that. The problem was he couldn’t figure how to concentrate… less.

The voice, “You will never be a Jedi,” gave life to the exact thought that had been running through his head ever since he’d stepped foot into this new temple. He knew, even though no one had yet to tell him directly, that this was likely his last chance. In the five years since he’d left his family to begin his training with the Jedi he’d been shuffled from temple to underground Jedi stronghold to backwater frontier town to, now, the armpit of three star systems, Jedha, for his training. Baze didn’t need anyone to tell him that this was it: he either learned to control the force or he would be sent home a failure.

He could only imagine what that would be like.

He had been his family’s pride and joy, which didn’t mean that he had had a happy childhood. It only meant that, for his impoverished family, to have a son connected to the force had been a privilege. That status had spared him from the casual abuse his siblings had received, but it had not gained him any allies or much protection otherwise. He could only imagine what returning home, and tarnishing the image his parents had of him, would mean.

And, to be honest, he stopped thinking of his parents’ barren dwelling, overcrowded with extended family and other destitute pariah as home the moment he left. That first sigh of relief as the ship had left his home planet had felt like his first and only moment of freedom thus far.

His training had become another prison. One preferable to the one to which he might have to return.

“Your burdens are heavy. You will never harness the force if you cannot see beyond them.”

The voice again.

Baze looked around for its owner and found it quickly.

There was only the two of them. The training room was empty, cold, and quiet without the other padawans. But, for some reason it suddenly felt full to capacity.

He was small, skinny. He had clearly been malnourished as a child. Baze knew what that looked like. He was staring ahead, his eyes unfocused and a strange hue. He sat on a mat in a far corner, his legs crossed.

He looked at peace.

Baze worked to fight the envy bubbling in his stomach. He exhaled loudly.

The stranger turned his head minutely toward the sound.

“Good,” he said softly. “Use that.”

***  
No one should live to see their gods die.

It’s not the way of the world.

Or at least it hadn’t been the way of Chirrut Imwe’s world.

And then one day the Imperial Army attacked the temple where he had lived for almost his entire life and everything he had ever known was reduced to rubble and dust, smoldering embers that never seemed to cool in Jeda’s eternal desert.

“Come. There is nothing here for us anymore,” Baze said, gripping Chirrut’s hand, interlacing their fingers for a brief moment.

Not everything, Chirrut thought. “It’s not all gone,” he whispered to the desert wind and Baze; his only companions besides the force that lived within them.

***

Baze had never given a thought to how he would die. There had never been any reason to care. Life was as common as death. “It comes to us all,” his grandmother, and ancient crone that he could barely remember, had said to him once, what felt like, a lifetime ago.

But it had been a lifetime; it was before Chirrut. That was how he ordered his days. Everything before Chirrut. And everything after.

But now he had a new measure: everything after Chirrut’s death.

He would make sure that this moment was swift.

He didn’t see any of them. None of it mattered. He shot and sliced and killed without thinking. All he could see was Chirrut’s face. He was shot. He didn’t notice. All he could feel was the life draining from Chirrut’s body. The force surging within him.

_I am one with the force and the force is with me._

The end was near.

He turned his head. He wanted Chirrut to be the last thing he saw. Just as he was the first thing Baze saw when he was reborn.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, if that, as the bomb exploded and ended his life. If he had had time to be surprised it would have been at how much he could remember in such a sort span.

His entire life. Their entire life together. All in a second.

***

“You are cold,” Baze said, his voice groggy but still rough.

“The nights are cool now. I wonder what that means,” Chirrut replied.

Baze’s arm was heavy, but somehow gentle, as it snaked around Chirrut’s waist and pulled him closer. Baze’s body was warm, almost too warm, but not quite.

“It means you should stay close,” Baze replied simply.

For once Chirrut listened.

He pressed his body into Baze’s and, eventually, fell asleep.

He was home.

***  
Baze didn’t feel anger or fear or rage at the end.

The force was strong within him.

He exhaled softly.

His eyes trained on Chirrut’s lifeless frame.

He felt peace.

Soundtrack:

Childish Gambino "Me and Your Mama"; "Baby Boy"; "Stand Tall"


End file.
